


So In Love With...

by FlounderTech



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Death, Poor Combeferre, Poor Everyone, javert does police shit, may have been finished while maybe drunk, poor courfeyrac, poor jehan, sorry jehan?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlounderTech/pseuds/FlounderTech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac gets a text off of Jehan and goes to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So In Love With...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApolloSupreme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloSupreme/gifts).



> Based on the song "In...With You" by thetashstache. Link here.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqtBgE4MqAs  
> Its a beautiful song. Have a listen while reading.

Courfeyrac got the text through about half an hour after it was supposed to arrive.   
"Courf. I got new lyrics for you. Get that butt of yours over here with The Duke and work it out for me?"   
A smile worked its way onto his lips, the man rising and moved to pick up the rather beautiful old ukulele that had been sat still for far too long by this point, giving it a quick strum, tuning it very briefly before sticking it in its case and started for his loves home.   
His arrival was quiet and he carefully unlocked the door, slipping inside and closed it carefully behind him, brow furrowing a little as he took a good look around. Something was off, and he couldn't work out quite what it was. Just... Something. He could feel the breeze across his ankles from the small crack under his door, the hint of tea hanging in the air, mingling with whatever the new herb that Jehan had started on more recently. He didn't always enjoy the scent of it, but he coped really rather well for it. He stepped further into the house, moving through to another room, trying to work out quite where the other man would be. Or have left the work. His mind jumped to the kitchen and a small flash of a memory jumped to mind.   
"I wanna write about snow." Courfeyrac laughed softly at the other mans proposal. They were shut in their home and had ended up dancing around the kitchen.   
"Not play in it?"   
"That too, but we're kinda stuck in here." Jehan grinned, leaning up to steal a kiss from the other man. "If we weren't, I'd already be singing at you." Courfeyrac laughed and shook his head, ruffling up the other mans hair.   
"I knew taking you to see Frozen was a bad idea."   
"Bad? I say it was bloody marvellous."   
The door moved easily underneath his weight, hand wrapping around the edge to prevent it from smashing into the counter and announcing his presence to such an extent as usual. He was unsettled by the silence that had fallen over the house and ended up acting as though he was going to be a surprise for the other man.   
It was as his gaze fell to the counter he knew something was far too wrong.   
The paper was there, Jehans writing clear with a bright pink post it note left ontop of it bearing his name. Pen included. And yet as the man edged closer, he could see what seemed to be splotches of red liquid. Initially, Courfeyrac thought it was ink. After all, he had no other reason to think it was anything else. At least, not until he noticed the same staining on the door. And on the floor towards the door. And over the paper.   
Courfeyrac could barely read the lyrics through the staining of the paper, least of all the last word. But he could see the last line clear enough.   
"I'm so in love wi-"  
Well. He didn't know what he was expecting, but that wasn't exactly it. He ran a hand through his hair, not daring to touch the paper, unsure quite what he was to do at this point. His hand was in his pocket, clutching onto his phone, and all he could feel was terror running through him. Slowly, Courfeyrac turned around, looking at the trail of... Well.. . His mind filled it in as being blood, not ink. He was surrounded by blood. Not pools of it, but smears. As if a fight had gone on. His heart stopped for a moment and he swallowed, shaking his head but powered on. He had to know. He had to know if Jehan was safe or not.   
And so it was that he carefully moved through the room, over to the door that lead through into the room that they had so often slept in, as well as other unspeakables. But what he saw left him completely taken back.   
Everywhere. Blood, clothes... Flesh... Courfeyrac span straight back around, legging it to the sink before throwing up whatever he had eaten previously. Shaking, he gripped onto the side, trying to take everything into account for him. Process the sight that he had been met with. The scent that quite honestly overpowered the chosen herb of the day. And tears welled up in the mans eyes. Slowly, he lifted his head, trying to regain his composure and pulled out his phone, automatically texting Combeferre.   
"Jehans. ASAP."  
He shook lightly, staring at the screen of his phone, watching as it re-flickered to life.   
"On my way."  
"Bring Joly."   
Courfeyrac shuddered a little, moving immediately to the window to watch, grip on the side as hard as ever, eventually leaving the house to set down on the step and light up, fingers shaking as he held the tightly rolled cigarette between his fingers. However much he hated smoking, today, he needed it. Another buzz in his hand, he assumed being a confirmation to what he had sent. And so he sat and waited. 

Combeferre hammered on the doctors door, watching carefully and waiting for any sign of movement, before hammering again. From up the stairs, the familiar face of Musichetta poked her head out from the window, cursing whomever had been hammering with such force on her front door, before realizing that it was Combeferre, no-one else, and attempted to move down to open the door. It was quite clear from the look that she gave him that he was more clearly concerned than he thought he was letting on. It was rare he got such short, sharp texts from Courfeyrac. The thought terrified him, both for Courfeyracs sanity, and for his safety.   
"What can I do for you?"   
"Is Joly in?" 'Chetta sighed softly, shaking her head a little.   
"Both Joly and Bousset headed out about half an hour ago." She furrowed her brow a moment, looking Combeferre over once more. "Whats happened?"   
"I don't know. Not yet. I'll try phoning again. Courf got in contact, I think something happened at Jehans." He struggled for a moment to get the phone out from his pocket, showing the woman the messages that he was sent, and soon enough even Chetta looked worried.   
"I'll do what I can. He sounds like he needs you." She turned him around almost immediately, shuffling him out of her door. "Go. Go take care of him. I'll send Joly on as soon as I can get hold of him."   
Combeferre nodded a little, thanking her before hurrying off. 

He arrived as swiftly as possible, moving up the first few stairs towards the door before realizing that Courfeyrac was indeed sat there, shaking.   
"Man..." He muttered. "What happened. Are you okay..?" His gaze lifted to the open door and his brow furrowed.   
"I think its Jehan..."   
"Whats Jehan..?" The look that Courfeyrac gave him had stopped the other man mid sentence, something that rarely happened, and he ended up moving down to kneel in front of him. He hadn't seen his friend like this for an awfully long time, and he'd wished he would never see him like this again. But that seemed to be too much to ask. Lifting back up, he moved with a sense of purpose into the open door, turning into the open door and stopped short, taking the scene in before lifting his scarf up over his nose and mouth to dull the stench that surrounded him so much, following the trail of blood through to the room to see the grusome sight. His stomach flipped, and not in the good way. He could feel his face reddening a shade and he moved as swiftly out of there as he could, carefully pulling his phone out and moved straight past the shaking man on the steps, making a phone call to the police, before doing a brief round of texts.   
Coufeyrac watched his friend emerge from the house, reaching for the pack of cigarettes once more and lit up another, barely keeping his nerve. He couldn't see what Combeferre was saying, just that he was as stressed out as Coufeyrac felt upset, and he saw the change in what he was doing, but nothing clicked. Not the fact that he hadn't re-joined him, not the image that was implanted on his mind. Or at least, not the meaning behind it. 

Joly blinked immediately on arrival. The fact that Mussichetta had contacted him and sent the pair onto Jehans had left him unnerved as it was. But what had set him off was the fact that he found Courfeyrac and Combferre sat side by side on the steps, one man leaning into the other. It worried everyone who had arrived and gathered around the house. Even then, Combeferre rose to move and take Joly into the house, watching as the mans face crumpled up at the smell, shaking his head.   
"You don't need me here to know what happened, 'Ferre."  
"Courfeyrac needs to hear it though." Joly frowned, looking to the open door. "Please... Just... Take a look. See what you think happened..?"   
"Its not worth it." He sighed softly, shaking his head. "The others'll be here soon, I'd assume." His gaze lifted to look out as sirens started to occur. "Go. You're needed. Get Courf away. He doesn't need to see this. At all." Joly ran a hand through his hair, looking up at Combeferre for a moment. "Put it aside. Just for one day." The look that Combeferre gave him for a moment, a split second, broke his heart even more and Joly watched as he left the house to pick up Courfeyrac and take him to safety. Out of the way. And almost on queue, he watched as Javert stepped into the building, carrying that air of respectability and morality. It set all the group on edge, always did. But he was there for his friend. It wasn't often that they had trouble in this part of town. His brow furrowed, carefully ushering in the others, various other men from the force whilst taking Joly to the side.   
"You cause one bit of trouble..."  
"I promise you, officer. None of us shall." He sincerely hoped that the promise would hold.


End file.
